


Queen Vs. Aziraphale

by boredom



Series: Crowley and Queen (A Friendship to end all Friendships!) [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is bad at being a store owner, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 10:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20505596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredom/pseuds/boredom
Summary: With the knowledge that Crowley will be moving to London specifically to be around Aziraphale more, the members of Queen take it upon themselves to make sure this "angel" really is a good fit for their friends. What follows is Queen's Adventures in London Soho.Sequel to Crowley's Complicated Love Life: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207000





	Queen Vs. Aziraphale

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of wish the members of Queen had like a personality/character profile so I know I'm portraying them correctly. Still, this is a fun little AU to write and I have at least one more idea for it.

“Alright,” Brian said, reviewing his notes one last time. “I think we have everything we need. If I’ve deciphered these notes correctly, then the bookshop should be opened now.” 

“I thought you said you found this place by wandering around Soho for an afternoon?” John said, taking the small book from Brian’s hands. It was, in fact a small book. It would make the most diehard conspiracy theorist swoon with the notes, bits of red string connecting information, and incoherent scribbles. 

“Yeah, I did, but that didn’t mean it was opened when I first showed up.” 

“I have been known not to open until one, except on Tuesdays. Bank holidays with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays,” Roger read over John’s shoulder. “For Sundays see Tuesdays. Good lord,” he said, looking up. “Are you sure this isn’t a front for the mafia or something? You’d think he wouldn’t want to actually sell anything.” 

“I told you,” Brian hissed, yanking the book away, “he doesn’t want to sell anything.” 

“Then why doesn’t he open a private library?” Freddie asked, yanking the book out of Brian’s hands and flipping through it. 

“I don’t know. Don’t ask me. Now, let’s go through the rules one more time.” 

The band groaned. 

“Don’t groan at me. You lot said you wanted to meet Aziraphale and see what Crowley was swooning over. I’m your in.” He reminded them. “Now, it is imperative that you don’t even think about buying a book. He can sense it. Like a tiger can sense fear.” 

“Oh, but my mum’s birthday is coming up. I was hoping to get her an old cookbook--”

“No, Roger. Don’t even think about. Not a single thought about buying a book can pass through your brain.” Brain pointed menacingly at them. 

“Now then,” he yanked the book back out of Freddie’s hands and turned to a page near the middle. “According to my calculations, the bookshop should be opened right now. It’s not a bank holiday, it is 2:30 pm, and it is not a Sunday or a Tuesday. However, just to make sure, my contact said the best way to tell if Aziraphale’s shop is opened is to first go to the sex shop across the way.” 

“Seriously? A contact?” Freddie flopped back on the seat. “Are you sure this guy isn’t mafia? It sounds like you’re trying to buy… something… illegal. Give me a minute. I’ll think of it.” 

“Greatest songwriter of our generation, ladies and gentlemen,” John muttered. 

“Hey!” 

“Can we focus, please.” Brian raised an eyebrow as if he were a mother scolding her children. The band was quiet. “Thank you. Now, if the sex shop says that they saw Aziraphale leaving at approximately 8:00 AM this morning, then we can go to the cafe across the street and see if he bought brioche. If he bought brioche and hot chocolate to go, then there is a fifty-fifty chance that the store is open today.” 

Everyone groaned. 

“Only fifty-fifty?” Roger said, sinking further down into the seat. “Couldn’t we just go up to the door and pull on the handle?” 

Brian flipped through his pages, frowning. “Um, I guess so. But John was complaining that he was hungry, so I thought, might as well.”

“Yeah, I skipped lunch.” 

“Once we’re inside the store, he’ll do everything in his power to get us to leave. Which means we need to use our time wisely. Our goal is to make sure he is good enough for Crowley. We are to be inconspicuous, innocent, and totally forgettable. Crowley is never to know that we came here. Any questions?” Brian was talking with all the gravity of a secret agent getting one last big mission that affected the future of the world. 

Freddie raised his hand. 

“This isn’t school, you can just blurt it out,” Brian groaned. He should have never let these guys talk him into this. 

“Yeah, what is someone who was raised to be very conservative doing in London Soho? He might as well have gone all in and moved to San Francisco with nothing but leather and ear piercings in his wardrobe.” 

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “Why don’t you ask him that when we get into the shop? Now come on.” 

The band nodded and opened the car doors, standing and stretching. Brian had been lecturing them for an hour about Aziraphale and how to best get on his good side. They were all a little stiff and sore (and in John’s case, hungry). 

“Remember, we are to be inconspicuous.” Brian said. 

“Um, excuse me,” two teenagers came up to them, looking very nervous. 

“Yeah, how can we help you?” John asked. 

“Are you guys Queen?” They were smiling and nearly vibrating out of their bodies from excitement. 

“Yes we are. Want an autograph?” Freddie said. 

Thirty minutes and sixty autographs later, the crowd finally cleared out of the streets. 

“Well that was fun. Always nice to meet fans.” Roger said. 

“I don’t know what you were hoping for, Brian,” John said. “We’re pretty famous. I don’t think we could have been any more attention grabbing.” 

“Well, we all could have worn one of Brian’s bat-winged bedazzled shirts,” Freddie said. 

“Alright, sex shop. We are going to the sex shop” Brian said, squaring his shoulders and marching to a shop across the way.

“Is that even comfortable?” Roger asked, tilting his head to study a mannequin in the window with a lot of rope criss crossed across it’s naked body. Including one particular weave through the… ahem… more intimate areas. 

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be comfortable.” Freddie was also tilting his head and studying the mannequin with the furrowed brow. “What I’m wondering, is if it’s sold like that or if you have to do it yourself?”

John tilted his head. “Seems like it’d kill the mood if you had to wait for your partner to tie all those knots.” 

“Do you have to wash it afterwards?” Roger asked. 

Brian smacked them upside the head. “Come on. We’re on a mission, remember?” 

They entered a shop to see a young man at the counter flipping through a magazine. “Dildos are on the left. Bondage at the back. Ask about the leather,” he said in a very bored voice. Brian supposed that even sex shop workers could get bored with their jobs. 

“Excuse me,” he said, marching up to the counter. 

The man looked up. 

His useless band had all scattered throughout the store, leaving Brian alone to do this. He should have just come alone like the last time. 

“I was wondering if you saw Mr. Fell today?”

“Aziraphale… Fell?” John said. “That is a weird name. Poor guy, his parents must have hated him.” 

“Oh, yeah. He left at around eight this morning to go to the cafe across the street. Looking to buy some books?” 

“No!” Brian added, glancing around as if Aziraphale had cameras hidden in the store and was listening in to ensure they were not there to buy. “Just to browse. His mum’s birthday is coming up and we were hoping to get some ideas for a cookbook.” 

“I thought you said no to the cookbook?” 

He was going to murder them all. 

“Ah, okay.” The clerk turned back to his magazine. “Good luck.” 

The cafe did have pretty great pastries. The brioche was pretty good and their croque monsieurs were delicious. They confirmed that Aziraphale had come in earlier to buy the brioche and a hot cocoa to go. 

“You know, I was skeptical about taking the day to come do this,” Freddie said as he finished up the last of his pan-au-chocolat. “But I’m glad you talked us into it. You’re right, we really should meet the guy Crowley can spend literal days talking about.” 

“There was one time he spent three staight hours talking about Aziraphale’s hair,” John said. “His hair. Told my wife and she thought it was romantic and asked if I spent three hours talking about her hair. I lied and said I spent three hours talking about her eyes and smile. She seemed happy.” 

“I swear to God, if this shop is closed because of you idiots, I’m leaving the band.” 

Brian led them all out of the cafe. The clock was ticking. You had to time a trip to A.Z. Fell and Co’s Used Bookshop or else you might miss your chance entirely. The longer they took, the more likely this trip was to end in failure. He put his hand on the door handle. 

Everyone held their breath. 

It seemed as if the pedestrians on the street had stopped to watch. 

Would the shop be opened?

Would it be closed? 

Brian’s arm tensed as he started to pull back on the door. 

It didn’t bunge. 

It was closed!

All that work for nothing!

They were failures! 

What caused them to miss the shop opening? 

Was it the gawking at the sex store mannequine?

Was it Freddie and Roger taking eight minutes to decide what to get at the cafe?

Whose fault was it?

What would they do now?

When would they have a chance to come back?

Oh. Wait. No. Nevermind. It was just stuck. Old doors and whatnot. Sometimes you needed to give them a good yank.

The bell tingled as they went inside. 

“Smells like respiratory issues,” John said, wrinkling his nose.

“Looks like a fire hazard.” Freddie took in the stacks of dry books.

“Also like a tripping hazard.” Roger gingerly edged his way around a precarious stack of tilting books, some of which looked older than StoneHenge. 

“What can I help you with today?” 

“Ah!” They all shouted and jumped back to see Aziraphale standing by them. 

“Holy shit he does look like a cherub.” John gaped. 

“He wasn’t here a minute ago. I swear,” Roger said. 

“We’re just…” Brian had a plan. Sadly, said plan was detailed in a book. It would be weird to whip out said book and rifle through it. 

“We’re visiting Soho for the first time and well, John here loves old bookshops. Loves the way they smell. Isn’t that right.” Freddie said, charming and charismatic as ever. 

“Thank God I don’t have asthma. Or am incredibly old. Or incredibly young,” John said, not hearing a word he said. 

Aziraphale looked at them. It wasn’t a normal look. It felt like he was looking into their very souls; seeing their sins out on display. Seeing everything wrong they had ever done. 

Brian felt guilty about how, in the first grade, he had lied to his teacher when she asked him what he had done for summer vacation. He said he had gone to visit his uncle who owned a large estate somewhere in Wales. This was a lie. He should write an apology to Ms. Applegate as soon as he got home. 

“Right. Can we look around?” Freddie said, also seeming to be somewhat shaken. 

Aziraphale smiled at them. It was the kind of smile that customer service reps give you when they want nothing more than to murder you, but can’t because corporate policy dictates that it is innapropriate and not aliging with the values of the company. 

“Of course. This is a shop after all.” He gestured to the book shop and the members stumbled forward. 

“Well, the good news is that that man is gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide,” Freddie said as they turned down one row. 

“What’s the bad news?” Roger asked. 

“I’m ninety percent sure he’s a demon.” 

“Or a vampire.” John added. 

“He certainly dresses like he was alive in the Victorian era,” Roger added. 

“If you need any help--”

“Ah!” 

“Don’t hesitate to call me.” Aziraphale smiled at them again before turning and heading back to the register. 

“How is he so quiet?” Freddie hissed. 

“Vampire,” John said, this time with much more finality in his voice. 

“What’s the plan again, Brian?” Roger asked. “We’ve gotten into the shop, so what’s the next step?”

“Right.” Brian dug out the book and flipped open to the correct page. “First, we need to find out if he’s gay.” 

“He is,” Freddie said. 

“We can’t know that for sure,” John said. 

“Well, how do we ask, without being… you know, rude?” Roger said. 

They all turned to look at Freddie. 

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I don’t make a habit of asking about people’s sexuality.” 

“Besides, he could be bisexual,” John pointed out. “Or someone who doesn’t feel sexual attraction at all.” 

“Are you finding everything okay?” 

“Ah!” 

“Yes,” Brian said. “Yes we are. Thank you.” 

“You know,” Aziraphale said, still with that creepy, empty smile. “There are more sections of the bookshop. You don’t just have to hole yourself up in this area.” He gestured to the bookshop again. 

“Yeah, good point.” Roger stepped out. “Do you have a cookbook section?” 

Aziraphale’s smile dropped a bit. “Cookbooks?” 

“Yeah, it’s my mum’s birthday coming up and she loves old cookbooks. Especially when there’s stuff written in the margins. Makes her feel like someone’s great-great grandma is in the kitchen with her and like she’s living through history.” 

Aziraphale looked as if he were concentrating hard for a few minutes before smiling at them again, this time much more genuine. “Yes, I do have a section of cookbooks. What types of cuisine is your mother into?” 

Him and Roger made their way to another section of the bookshop. The strange thing was, however, that Brian was pretty sure the section did not exist when they first entered. 

“Were all those shelves there before?” he asked. 

“Vampire.”

“Vampires don’t have the ability to create bookshelves and books out of thin-air, John,” Freddie scoffed. “What else is on your list?” 

“We need to know if he’s a good person or not. That’s probably the second most important thing.”

“Yeah, Crowley may act tough, but he’s pretty soft once you get to know him. He seems like the kind of guy who’d get his heart broken easily.” Freddie looked a little sad at this admission. 

“How do we tell all of that in a brief conversation?” John asked. 

“I don’t know. It seems like we need to actually start cultivating a friendship with him if we want to know the finer details of his personality,” Freddie said. 

“That feels wrong, though,” Brian looked down at his list. “It’d be a relationship under false pretenses. I couldn’t do it.” 

“Anything I can help you gentlemen with?”

“Ah!” 

“Weren’t you helping Roger?” John asked. They had all leapt back, pressed against the bookshelf and clinging to one another. 

“Oh, yes. We found a lovely French cookbook with all the notes in the margins.” 

Behind them, Roger held up a bag, pointing to it excitedly. 

“You actually sold him something?” Brian asked. Nowhere in his notes did it say that you could actually _ buy _ something from this shop. He’d have to let his contact know.

“Yes.” Aziraphale said, sounding as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “This is a bookshop after all. Now, if you’re quite finished, I must be closing.” 

“It’s not even three thirty,” Freddie said, looking at his watch. 

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m afraid I have an old friend coming over. I haven’t seen him in so long, but now he’s planning on settling in London.” The softest smile spread across his face and he got a wistful look in his eyes. “I do hope that’s true. He’s my oldest friend, you know.” 

They nodded. 

“Maybe now, with him here, we can actually start to work on our relationship. Or at least I’m hoping he wouldn’t mind seeing more of me.” 

Brian hoped he was talking about Crowley. If he wasn’t, well, 1) that would break Crowley’s heart to know that Aziraphale was in love with someone else and 2) that would be one hell of a coincidence.

“Oh, listen to me prattle on. I suppose you have better things to do. Thank you for coming.” 

They exited the shop, the sign flipping from closed to open and the door locking behind him. 

Roger hugged his book to his chest. “You know, he really is very nice.” 

“I still say he’s a vampire.” 

“He’s not a vampire, John,” Brian said, walking back to the car. 

“Still, maybe we should get Crowley some garlic and crosses, just in case.” Freddie grinned and wiggled his fingers. “After all, you never know when vampires will come in and kidnap you to be their bride.” 

“Knock it off.” John knocked his fingers down.

“Probably shouldn’t give Crowley anything religious,” Roger said, climbing into the back. “I gave him a neat necklace I found at a flea market once. Totally went with his aesthetic. He hissed and dropped it like it had burned him.”

“He really sticks to this whole ‘demon’ act, doesn’t he?” Brian said. 

“When you find something that works, might as well keep doing it,” Freddie said. 

“Do you think Crowley will find out that we came here?” John asked. 

“Nah, Aziraphale never even got our names. I’m sure he won’t find out.” And with that, they finished up their adventurous afternoon in London Soho. 

LATER

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he poured another glass of wine, “that bebop group you like came by the shop earlier.”

Crowley groaned. He had miracled away his mustache this evening. He didn’t like the wine making it soggy, or finding mustache hairs in his glass. “Angel, for the last time, not everything modern is bebop. I don’t even think anything modern would be considered bebop. What even is bebop?” 

“Well, whatever you call them.”

“Wait, which group came by?” He sat up and wracked his brain. He couldn’t imagine any music group coming by a random bookshop in Soho on a Thursday afternoon. 

“The one with the singer named after the planet.” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley’s drunk mind took a bit longer to figure out who Aziraphale was talking about. Eventually, he got it. 

“Wait, Freddie Mercury was here today?” What on Earth was Freddie Mercury of all people doing here?

“Him and the rest of the band. I had a lovely conversation with Roger about French cuisine.” 

“They all came here?” He was sputtering and aware of the noise he was creating. 

“Yes, dear. They were lovely chaps. A bit odd, but I suppose that’s bebop musicians for you.” 

Crowley couldn’t even be bothered to poke fun at Aziraphale for his continual use of the phrase bebop. He was more trying to figure out why his friends had decided to take a group field trip to London Soho on a Thursday to visit a random bookseller. 

Aziraphale moved on with the conversation. Crowley tore his thoughts away from the band for now. Tomorrow, however, he was going to have strong words with them. 

(The band would, of course act completely innocent when Crowley confronted them. They would also be slightly terrified with Aziraphale’s power. Except Roger. Roger had a great time and loved going back to the bookshop.)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a very short little piece about Queen meeting Aziraphale. Instead it's three thousand words long. Not the longest fic ever, but definitely longer than what I was planning.


End file.
